A Porcelain Heart
by Neverland's Pessimist
Summary: As sure as two plus two is four and as definite as our security in Gravity Something so fragile as youth will eventually break. Someone will want to chuck the fragile Porcelain at a wall just to see it shatter. Neverland is not safe for loving anything.
1. Disclaimer

A Porcelain Heart – A Neverland Story

Written by N.L.P.

Disclaimer:

I do not claim any of the original characters that originated from Peter Pan or any Neverland stories, though the fictional characters and places in this story do NOT belong to me in any way, the way the words are arranged or any new thoughts and ideas DO belong to me in a related way.

I may ask all readers to not copy anything from here or use the Ideas and thought that took me so long to think up.

PLEASE though do enjoy this piece of art and in no way 'expand' on my story, create a sequel for it, that's MY job. Thank you for reading and acknowledging this and abiding by the rules set forth in the content above.

If you proceed any Further I will take it as an acceptance of these rules and hope you will be responsible and handle them with care. If you don't I'll have to curse you with a thousand starving weasels in your bed.

THIS STORY MAY CONTAIN CONTENT NOT SUITABLE FOR IMMATURE PERSONS. PLEASE BE AT LEAST 15-16 TO ENTER OR GAIN PARENTAL PERMISSION FIRST. YOU HAVE BEEN FORWARNED.


	2. Chapter One

A Porcelain Heart – A Neverland Story

Written by N.L.P.

Chapter One - Of Cold Walls and Disastrous Faults

February 2, 2006... Fe'camp, France.

If there is one objective in the entirety of the world that I am sure of, it is that I will never ever be perfectly and complacently happy. I'm not mournful or complaining about the fact, just stating it as sure of a fact as two plus to is four. Just as surely as porcelain will break when dropped; I will never be happy.

Many wonder at this I am sure, but family history always tends to repeat it's self, going all the way back to my great great Grandmother Wendy, whom all our miseries can be traced back to beginning. The insanity and incredibility of our family line started with her and followed hauntingly down the line through the daughters. All of their heads full of fairies and boys who never grew up. The fantasy encouraged by the book Wendy Darling wrote. It is to her that I can contribute without a doubt my present situation.

It is to her that I put blame upon for not having a mother.

I don't believe that she knew what she was doing, rest her soul, when delighting in her own non-existent world, how many lives she would ruin with her tale of flying out of the nursery window. No, the blame is upon her, but I don't think her purposes were ever ill.

As I write all this down, as you might be able to tell, I am not in the best of dispositions in the very least, Sitting in a crowd of people who have the most unfounded hate of oneself will do that to anyone's manner, whether purposely or not. This boarding school could have been the best thing that could have happened to my education, but beyond that it's favorable qualities are very few if existent at all.

Without saying as much as I should on the residents excluding myself here at Dalington's Academy For Young Ladies, I must state that every single one of them have that attitude of a small yappy dog on uppers. They are all fine boned and beautiful, and yet they bitch and complain about every single detail of their lives with those high pitched voices that make eardrums not so used to them as mine implode upon first hearing their cries of self proclaimed misery, chubbiness or impending doom.

I on the other hand, who never indulge them in denying them the comments of, "You're not fat, I am!" or "Poor darling, I'm sure everything will get better." And letting them wallow in whatever false misery they might have they have come to hate me with a passion that I can not describe. Their abuse to me is not physical for sure like boys who are beaten up over issues and the like. That I could handle with ease, and I doubt that any of them would stand much against me, growing up practically living on the streets of London an all...

But no, Their Abuse to me is all little tricks and misconceptions. Everything about the small details of hurtful comments not directed towards me, but about me to someone else near me. All the petty little lies and spending every day alone with only the comfort of books and writing down my thoughts add up to a sum much greater than a black eye would ever amount to.

My only solace here is that I am away from my Aunt, whose 'care' I had been entrusted to after my mother died. If every story must have a wicked stepmother who poisons apples or lets a girl prick her finger on a spinning wheel, she would be mine. Aunt Nikki's cruelty has been far worse than what my mother put me through the first ten years of my life.

Like a couple of run away bohemians she and I had gone from town to town. At least that's what I rember. Also that she had me at a very young age. At the time she was already far into the fantasy that eventually led her to kill herself. Growing up I was familiar with her often fits of insanity as she wished for a 'Peter Pan' to come back to her once and for all. Often had I tried to comfort her despite the dirt and grime we lived in, with pretty objects I would steal from people off the street. This put her at bay for some time usually, when I gave her a watch or a bracelet.

The last day I saw her she had gone into one of her fits, three watches, five very fine bracelets and by chance a rare pair of earrings could not bring her out of it, and I rember watching with horror as my own mother jumped off of the top of the run down flat complex we had recently been stowed away in. Hoping that she still knew how to fly.

At that point I was found and 'reclaimed'. Having no former education but reading, which my mother and I had done every day, I was given tutors and special classes until the age of twelve. Apparently the country wanted me to be their reformed poster child. Someone they scooped off the street and turned into a real lady.

When my Aunt came forward to claim me though All their hopes and dreams were shattered and I went to live with her in my inheritance, the Darling Estate. That was really the only reason she came forth I believe. The woman's disposition to treat me like her own personal slave showed that she had no real care for me...

I'm going back to her tomorrow. On bus, then ship, then bus again, the cheapest route to go by. Though I rather dislike it here, going back to that wretched house and that disgusting woman is far worse an alternative.

Hoping I will survive the morrow-

Roseiline Daniel Chester


	3. Chapter Two

A Porcelain Heart – A Neverland Story

Written by N.L.P.

Chapter Two - Pale Lips for Pale Hooks

She was everything he'd ever imagined he'd want in a girl. Short messy hair stood up from her head slightly, her breath left clouds billowing out of those sweet lips, trailing behind her. Short and thin to the point of angles she walked down the street with a purposeful feel. She'd been walking since she'd gotten off of the giant red monster of a bus came screeching down the street to a halt.

He'd seen her then, rembered, and of course followed. It was those collar bones that reminded the shadow that crept along behind her of a certain someone he knew long ago. Back when he was ten or eleven the memories were clearer then, clearer than where he'd gotten his single meal yesterday. She was shorter then, and dirtier, the hair was the same though. It was the comment that she should look more like a girl that had gotten him into acquaintance with her. Or rather her fists.

"Ay! Chick-a-Dee! Didn't your crazy washed up Mum ever show you how to be a girl?" He suddenly bust out, appearing from the shadows into a single streetlight, reciting the line he'd stupidly uttered years ago. What his shadow made to seem a wiry frame- he was thin but strong in a lithe way, insane Dark curls fell around his face escaped from the hair he'd tied back with string to keep it away from his face. His face had a devilish grin to it, as she came to a halt not looking behind her. She was clean, though her messy habits of her golden hair did not leave her though she was clean. For a moment he envied her, his clothing was old, worn and mismatched, the back on his back was filled with all the items he'd ever possessed in his entire life. It passed the next moment though

Turning He saw her face again, pale and smooth, the way she tilted one corner of her mouth up when she gave a close lipped smile- Still the same Rose. "James," the whisper had barely escaped her lips before the bag she carried was dropped and she ran towards him, Laughter escaping both of them as she collided into him, knocking both of them down onto a snow covered stoop with the force of your embrace. "Good god! Have you any idea how much I've missed you!"

He knew her arms wrapped around him must be innocent, but still, her neck was dangerously close to his pale lips, and her thigh pressed to the inside of his leg must have been done unknowingly. "Not a fridged inking," he said, pretending that she knew what she was doing to his insides. "Babe, while you were off becoming a proper woman you went and grew up on me!" When she pulled away the look on her face was slightly hurt, though he couldn't think of the slightest idea why.

"Well I'm glad I'm back" was the soft voice that he rembered speaking to him as a smile widened her face. As they took a moment to untangle themselves she used it to talk about how horrible her school was, and he took it to study her closer. His statement before had been true, under her sweater and jacket he could see the bloom of pert breasts and her skirt bared long shapely legs for her figure, covered by he guess a few layers of black stockings and tucked under a short plaid skirt. "However horrible it was, babe, I am digging the school girl look." He said and she gave him a scowl while getting some of the snow off of her self before its pure white melted and soaked her small frame.

"Yes, well... What have you been up to..." her eyes saddened slightly, made her softer. "Where have you been living out of?" a pale thin hand gripped his forearm gently as those grey eyes stared up at him expectantly. His pale lips parted for a moment before they closed again. What was he going to tell her? She wasn't really one of them anymore. She had a place to sleep.

"You know how it is. A door step here, a soup kitchen there." He tried to smile but it came out as a grimace. "Rose you should go." He said quickly as she leaned forward to wrap those long arms around him again.

"What?" Her face was confused and hurt. Suddenly he hated himself for being the cause of that face. He reached out to her, trying to quickly fix his mistake.

"No, only meant that we should go, you backs are just laying there and your aunt will kill you if you're not home on time, you told me that." For a few dark seconds she looked like she didn't believe him and he searched her face. Finally she gave a sigh and abandoned her near hug.

"Maybey I can sneak you in tonight, James... Rember when we used to leave my mother for a week at a time and you'd ride with me on all the busses till we were lost?" she grinned, looking over her shoulder at him as she walked back to her bag, dropped in the snow bending over he fallowed close behind, cursing himself for being a man as he watched to see if her skirt would lift a little; Scolding himself silently even more when it did not for being so disappointed.

"Yeah and we'd sleep together to stay warm, even though I was twelve and you were nine." He wondered if she had ever been awake any of those nights, because he never slept, always holding tight to the only person who'd ever cared for him and stroking her hair while she slept. He whispered endearments to her. From that first day when he insulted her and she tried to fight him, when she was seven and he was ten they had been inseparable.

Until her mother died that is.

"Yeah well now I'm sixteen and you're nineteen, I've not forgotten what you said one of those nights so come on." She said with a jovial grin and started walking. Billions of thing he said rushed through his head and he froze for moment. What had she heard so long ago.

"What- Whhaattt did I say?" he asked after a quick sprint to catch up.

She gave another slightly lopsided smile that made her eyes look silver, those long dark eyelashes blinking swiftly for a moment. "That I could always find warmth with you, and no matter what you'd never deny me that." She said simply, looking back to the sky as he stared in wonderment at her. "It's going to snow." She added after a moment, grinning.

The first brilliant white snowflake landed near her eye and she laughed, "Beautiful," and he would have said something like- 'yes you are,' but it was too cheesy and that would break up time for him to stare at those beautiful lips.

It wasn't long before the twirling around in the snow stopped and the talking began, and it wasn't long before they were caught up over the past year she'd been away from him. But it wasn't long enough before she stopped in front of an old blue town house, looking over towards him, "Climb up to the veranda then in about an hour?" she asked softly and he grinned.

"Of course milady." He said bowing flourishly. This plan had been enacted many a time, but never at night and never before had she suggested that he spend the night in a soft bed with her soft form in his arms. Sitting down under a hedge cover he watched her disappear inside the wooden doorway, then tightened the old scarf around his neck againt the wind.


	4. Chapter Three

A Porcelain Heart – A Neverland Story

Written by N.L.P.

Chapter Three - Cashing in Her Frown

The gin wasn't as strong as it should have been. A grimace shaped her lips into a more unnatural form than they already were in. A mental note was to go and try a different brand tomorrow. Her form was supple, if not exactly young, sitting in a chair by the door. Her frame seemed focused on the glass in her hand, momentarily forgetting the anger that was sitting in her chest. Not for long though. Standing she turned to see one of the many pictures of the little brat in the house, she kept them up for when the government officials came by unannounced to give their golden child a surprise visit.

Fuming with hate she turned away from the black and white photo, it wan an artistic one the girl had sent her upon request- Rose did whatever she was told as long as her aunt kept up her end of the deal and left her alone. The woman standing there looking at her niece's picture was considering if the contract was breeched, her skinny ass was supposed to have been home over half an hour ago.

Another gulp of gin would calm her down.

Controlling herself she sat back down, crossing her legs and pushing back her long hair out of her face. No one could deny that Miss. Nikki had a body to her, but her face seemed to be misplaced, wrinkles spread out from her eyes like deep crevices, her cheeks looked rather gaunt, and her lips, recently re-botoxed, seemed to protrude from her face in a strange way. Perhaps that was the reason looking upon an image of Rose that hate arose making her nauseous. Rose was young and beautiful, her eyes so bright in contrast to Her Aunt's cold and dull ones. Or perhaps she hated her so much because she was like her mother, Loved by everyone who ever met her.

No one ever thought Nikki was a delightful young lady like her big sister, only Amy was ever nice to her. Often she would think it was because she was required as a sibling to spend time with her, or because it would make her seem all the more kind and caring. What Nikki feared the most was that her sister actually pitied her.

Thoughts of a haunting past washed away with the turning of a key in the lock. Draining her glass quickly Rose's Aunt sat back down in her chair, composing her self frighteningly. The first glimpse of the girl was a shock. It seemed for a moment as if her mother had climbed out of her grave and walked through the door. Amy always wore her hair long though, and she was shapelier than the gangly thing that was standing uncertainly before her now. Rose spoke first.

"The Ferry was delayed nearly an hour, I have my ticket times printed out, I got here as quickly as I could." Opening the bag on her back she took out all the documents of her travel and stepped forward carefully to hand them to her aunt. Just then the sedation of the gin wore off, anger exploding inside the woman. The girl was a liar, she was a fake!

Standing swiftly she reached forward and smacked the fragile girl, papers dropped to the floor and the golden haired child dropped to the floor hold her face and making no sound. Legs were crumpled under her. "Don't you ever dare make excuses in front of me again." Walking around the girl's back she hooked her hands under her arms, pulling her up to her feet.

Looking into the girls eyes there were no tears, just hate, a deep loathing that made her aunt smile gently. The side of her face was red and four small scrapes from her fingernails were bleeding slightly. "You will take responsibility for everything that happens to you. Because it is your fault." The smile turned into a grin. Turning suddenly her aunt smacked the side of her face again, the same spot now bearing twice the amount of scrapes, but she didn't fall, she didn't flinch. This time the girl was ready. "That was for being late."

Laughing Aunt Nikki gave her a kiss on that cheek. "Welcome back kiddo. Now get your ass up stairs and don't come back down until noon tomorrow, I'll be gone by then." Looking back over her shoulder as she walked away She saw rose staring at the same picture she had but a while ago.

"I don't want to see your face."

Content with herself Nikki went to find the rest of that bottle of gin.


	5. Chapter Four

A Porcelain Heart – A Neverland Story

Written by N.L.P.

Chapter Four – Treading Lightly

Leg swings over leg; hand reaches for the next splintering piece of wood that made up the dilapidated trellis.

James would go to the end of the world for Rose, he knew that if anything ever happened to her that he would do everything in his power to save her, or at the very least avenge her and then follow the girl into the beyond. Even though a few scratches from the rotting wood was no where near what he would be willing to take for her, he regretted not stealing the ladder out of the shed.

His breath was melting the bits of snow that had landed around his mouth, making his chin drip with icy water and condensation. As soon as his dark curls appeared at her windowsill and he was safely inside the room he wiped the moisture off of his glistening face, only to see his motion mimicked from the other side of the room, for different reasons of course.

There was Rose, wearing nothing but a nightgown with soaking wet hair in this freezing room. Her eyes were slightly glossy and red like they always got when she had been crying. He had never actually caught her in the act of crying, only afterward with dry red eyes and a small smile that said she was feeling better. Now that he saw the fine tears leaking down her face he wished that it had stayed that way. That he would never have to see her like this. Muttering something about catching a cold he shut the window, quickly running about to turn on the heater and fetch extra blankets from her closet.

Rose was always so strong it unsettled him to see her broken down, clutched between her clammy fingers was a black and white photograph of her self. She was so beautiful, it was sunny and she was smiling and leaning back against a tree. She looked like the doppelganger of the girl holding it. Prying it from her fingers he wrapped a blanket around her, and pushed her wet hair behind her ears. She smelled nice, like she'd just showered and this close he could tell that she still used the same cheep soap they had in most of the shelters. Using his scarf he patted dry her cheeks where her short wet hair had clung.

Looking back up at him she gave him the same little smile that he was just thinking about. The corners of her lips tugged upward to the left a bit more than the right, but that was somehow charming. "Thank you." She whispered, her voice hoarse and quiet. Leaning over to kiss her forehead lightly he took the picture from her hands and walked back to the window, leaning it outward so that all the people in London could be graced with that smile.

Now that her hands were unoccupied she pulled the soft down blanket tighter around her. Sitting down on the window seat across the room James looked at her really for the first time since his mother hen like instinct to protect her had kicked in. A fresh bruise spread from the nub of her ear to the highest part of her cheekbone encompassing angry red scratches. The series of feelings that erupted in his chest were incomprehensible and varied from rage to an obsessive panic. Shaking his head he started taking off his scarf, all the motions he was making getting sharper and angrier till he threw the thing to the thing to the floor. Each button he undid on his jacket might have felt threatened for their life if they were capable of emotion.

"She can't keep doing shit like this to you!" Throwing his jacket down on the ground his eyes locked with hers, already starting to return to their normal state. She was always a good one for recovery. Taking his shoes off with the same intensity he threw them across the room to bounce off the wall with a light thud and skid under the bed one by one. Rose, not even flinching through his outburst bit her lip, and gently touched her cheek.

What goes up must come down they say and James did crash, flopping onto the bed in front of her. Moving the blankets aside she was much like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. Curling up to fit perfectly into his side, his chest now her pillow Rose closed her eyes and draped the many blankets over them both.

"It's not that Bad, I promise. Tonight might be the only time I'll actually see her in a month or two…" her voice was soft and reassuring but as her arms wrapped around his middle it seemed as if she was trying too hard to reassure him she was fine. What did she get out of being here anyways? What did she have here that he couldn't make up for in all the love he had for her?

"Why can't you just let me take you away from it all. We could leave and go somewhere far away. America maybe, I know you've always wanted to see that big red canyon thing." His voice rose a bit hopefully, but a deep weary sigh brought him down from his dream. Standing beside the Grand Canyon he could just imagine the way her hair would fall in her eyes and how she'd be thankful that they were far away and together. Imagining seemed to be the only way that would ever happen to him though.

"I can't James… I wish I could but living with her is like sleeping with the lesser of two evils." Even though he gave her a funny look and her bright gray blue eyes were staring back at him she continued with her conviction. "If I run away from here again then I'll just be put back into the hands of the government. Nikki may be what she is, but I know how to stay out of her way, and she is so afraid of this room that she never bothers me in it. It may still be a cage but it's so much bigger than the other one I would get." Squeezing him a bit tighter she smiled wide, "At least I get to see you when I'm here."

When she did that he never had any other choice than to smile back at her and reach over her to turn off the light. Cuddling close he wished tonight had been some sort of amazingly romantic break where he could finally tell her that ever moment he was thinking of her and every moment he was around her he couldn't stop thinking about kissing her. Of course it never turned out like he planned, drifting to sleep stroking her hair he realized he didn't mind just being with her much at all. The world was so peaceful in those first few moments of sleep that he never would have heard the window swing back open and shut again.

When the sun appeared it only glinted on one smiling Rose in the room, peacefully asleep in the arms of the only person she ever had care about her. The black and white doppelganger was gone.


	6. Chapter Five

A Porcelain Heart – A Neverland Story

Written by N.L.P.

Chapter Five – Want and Need

Tossing and turning sweat poured down the golden body once mistaken for the son of a god. The furs covering him stuck to his skin, clinging with the moisture that slid down his forehead, down a bare stomach, the muscles rippling under skin as he moved to fight some unknown foe in a dream. He'd been like this for the past few days, having nightmares that he never remembered when he awoke, the land he loved even seemed to be feeling it. Trees were dying; the Mermaids stopped singing, even the fairies stayed clear of him.

It was like everyone knew something he didn't, his friends already awake in the next room avoided his glances and he found them staring at him sometimes, a confused look on their faces. This sense of foreboding was mixed with a sort of loneliness.

Peter Pan had changed. Something was wrong with him and everyone was paying for it.

Awaking with a scream the thin body of the boy-man tensed and shot out of sleep, catapulting him back into the real world, at least real enough for him. Dark green eyes searched his room quickly for the enemy that he swore he'd just felt present. Instead of some scurvy Pirate or Dangerous Indian his eyes landed on the opposite wall, faces stared back at him in a still way.

Strong arms tossed the blanket aside. Before this recent change had been a long series of others for Peter. As soon as Wendy had left him, the stubborn boy refusing to follow, it became obvious that being alone in Neverland without a mother or the lost boys wasn't his best idea ever. In those next years he made more trips to London and the rest of the world than he had in his entire life, every boy that had the desire came along with him, till Peter was sure at least one of them wouldn't eventually want to grow up. At least one of them wouldn't leave him all alone.

His hoard of boys numbered near a hundred now, all had been their long enough to catch up with Peter's age, he never let them grow a day older than he was. That would be unheard of, and he thought about them for a moment as he pulled on his soft hide pants, they clung to his lean legs and allowed for the most movement. The problem with that was that he found himself one day staring into a pond at the reflection of a stranger. Peter wouldn't admit it at first, but the way Wendy had changed his way of thinking something else had changed his body. He told himself that he'd grown, but not grown up. Now he judged his age at about Seventeen, not yet an adult. All the rest of them were the same age now too. An island full of teenage boys fighting Pirates and toying with the mer-people, day after day. Everyone had been happy until Peter took that first picture from the Darling house.

Walking confidently to the other side of the room, now dressed, Peter calmed his nerves by looking at the many photos that hung there. His hands tingled as they remembered taking each one. It had been a way of escaping his changing world again the same girl was in all of them, golden hair and ivory skin, she was the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Even though she was small and fragile looking she stood as if she wasn't afraid of anything, closed her eyes in peace, resting easy knowing that no wild mountain men would come and take advantage of her.

Life must be so simple for this girl, he told himself, so happy. Of course he didn't know how wrong he was until the night before. That night he'd flown to London, telling himself that it was to find another Lost boy, but like always he found him self floating outside her window. Watching as he saw her in person for the first time, he knew now never to trust pictures, because the girl straight out of them wasn't the righteous smiling girl he thought she was. There was a sort of conviction about her and he saw the straightness in her spine, but the tears leaking from her eyes proved that she was not happy.

Peter realized now that it was that moment that he had formulated the idea to take her away with him. It was then, and not later when from his hiding spot on the roof he watched as a boy climbed to her window. Before he was jealous, before he wanted the girl from the pictures all to himself.

Turning quickly away from the wall of his desire he snatched his shirt from the hanger on the rough wall, pulling it over his head in a snappy manner. It was time to stop dreaming and looking a pictures. Peter was a boy- no, a Man of action. It did not do for him to sit and watch from the sidelines. Peter Pan got what he wanted. No question. The small familiar smirk he often wore graced his face again for the first time in so long. Perhaps all the changes were just in his mind, maybe if Peter could get back to himself he could make everything all right again in Neverland.

He was quite sure though that if this girl wasn't with him that none of this would never happen.

Opening his bedroom door with strong arms the boys on the other side fell quiet. All six of them were the most trusted and most skilled of the army he had gathered. Some of them, growing up knowing of nothing but Peter noticed his change in attitude immediately and broke out in grins. Gone was the moody boy that he'd become.

Peter Pan was back.

Fairies shot off in all directions to tell all of the different posts, everyone in Neverland had to know, something was up.

His stance as wide as his smile and Peter walked with his normal swagger across to a boy with a strong jaw and long straight dark hair. Placing a hand on his shoulder he looked around at all of the boys, the look in his eyes was one all of them knew and understood. Whatever he had to say was going to change their lives. Little did they know by what a gigantic amount.

"Men! I've found the one person missing from Neverland! I found who we need!"

The boys looked back and forth confused, whispers sprouted and grew like weeds before being chopped down by The boy Peter was leaning on still. "What's his name?" he asked, brow furrowed.

"Her name, Rebel. Her name is Rose."


	7. Chapter Six

A Porcelain Heart – A Neverland Story

Written by N.L.P.

Chapter Six – What You Could Have

Her eyes fluttered open to reveal a bright airy room, sun streamed through the open window and blinded her with brilliant white light for a moment until contracting her pupils shrank to their adjusted light. A dull ache spread across her face, pounding with the rhythm of her heart, beating slowly as she stretched under the many blankets piled on top of her.

Those bright blue eyes searched the room for a moment, looking to the floor for a tell tale sign that James had not left. Laying on the ground was his scarf, something he would never leave behind. A sigh of relief emptied out of the girl's lungs. Suddenly the reason for his absence floated to her nose, the smell of something wafting up from the kitchen reached through the door. She gave a small smile, James always did like to use the kitchen when Rose snuck him in, god knows he's the only one who ever did out of the two women who intermittently lived there.

Rose ignored the fact that she shared a common dislike with her aunt. The idea she was like her in any way left an unpleasant taste in her mouth.

Finally pulling herself out from under the covers of her four-post bed, she hurried to close the window. Not bothering to stop and wonder how it got opened in the first place, her hands immediately busied themselves to get rid of the pent up nervous energy that had been gathering in her body from the moment she had touched James out in the snowy streets. It was like the shock of a light socket in slow motion; feeling all the hair on your arms move with the electrical pulse moving slowly across you skin, caressing every inch like a lover would. James made her feel like that which must mean-

The path that her mind was wandering suddenly fell off a cliff, bringing her down with it as well. Busying her self even more she picked up the clothing that he'd thrown around in anger the night before. The scarf, old and worn but clean, made her pause a moment, just a moment, to remember all those years ago when she'd knitted it for him with a pair of chopsticks and some stolen brown yarn. The grin memories brought her disappeared quickly as she continued onward, kindly folding the scarf and placing it on the small writing desk in front of which, his jacket now rested hung on the back of the chair.

It took an awkward moment of doing nothing to remember what he'd done with his shoes, in which she ran a hair through silky almost white- golden hair, sighing softly she let the hand drift down her neck and closed her eyes imagining that it was not her own. A soft sigh ran through her as she thought of James holding her -

With a jump she rounded the side of the bed, mind pulling up the way his shoes had hit the wall, leaving to black marks about two and a half feet away from one another. Blushing she tried to forget whatever was going on in her mind besides the immediate need to get everything neatened. Stooping down on long pale limbs she fished out the first shoe from under the bed quickly. The second seemed to have retreated further under its depths and after much groping her hand finally hit something solid besides the floor. When she dragged it out though, it was not a shoe.

The old tin lunchbox in her hands was covered in dust, so marked with rust and age she swore it would have had too been down there more than her entire lifetime. It was strange indeed because before she left for school she had cleaned every inch of her room, including underneath the bed. Searching for anything that her Aunt could use against her as blackmail when she returned home.

She used a bit of her nightgown to wipe the dust off the square surface, revealing slowly the face that had possibly ruined her life. A small tremor started in her stomach looking down at the cartoon drawing of Peter pan, little elf ears sticking out from his red hair and a fairy at his side.

Looking down at the bow she thought of her mother, tears newly formed getting caught in the transparent eyelashes she closed now. How hard it had been trying to stop her mother, how hard it had been when she jumped off the edge, knowing she was going to be leaving a daughter behind. The tears were not of sadness of suffering, she'd gone through all that already. Dripping down her face were tears of anger.

Something told Rose now that this had belonged to her mother. Amy (Amelia) Maria Chester had hidden this somehow under her bed and Rose had just missed it the last time she looked. Now convinced of something rational she dried her tears with the back of her hand and undid the clasp holding the lid down, flakes of rust popping off with it. Lifting the lid slowly curiosity took over and she looked into it's shadowy contents. Surprised to find them free of dust and clean; four books, all but one bound the same way with deep brown covers, the fourth was a forest green with gold leaf letters and designs reading 'Peter and Wendy'. Nestled in a corner was a small velvet pouch, picking it up with long fingers Rose decided that it should be the first object under examination.

Pulling the little blue ribbons and loosening the bow that held the black bag closed, her heart sped up, sending chills through her body with the mystery of it all. When turned sideways something silver and shining fell from it, glittering in the light she was mesmerized by the necklace that had found its way into her palm.

The door swinging open and heavy footfalls muffled by the thick carpet broke the heated concentration that she could not control. Looking up quickly she saw that it was James walking through her door and not the aged face of her aunt as she had feared it might have been. She had never set foot in this room since she came back to the house of her childhood, but Rose wouldn't put it past her if she remembered that there was a supply of alcohol somewhere in the room.

Grinning up at him, she took a deep breath; the heavy scent of food that was trailing along with the tray he was carrying reached her making her stomach growl with hunger. "What'cha got there?" she asked playfully as he set the tray down on the bed, the smile he was giving her made her stomach flip for different reasons than hunger.

"I figured you'd be a bit peaky so I've got butter with a bit of toast, cheesy eggs and I found some bacon in the fridge." He looked thoughtfully at it for a second. "The expiration date was alright I just still can't believe you don't go shopping and have all the food you can cram into that fridge, you have the money and all now…" Dropping the necklace back into the velvet bag with a sigh Rose rolled her eyes. They had this discussion every time he was here, how she was so privileged now and she ought to use it to her advantage.

"Thank you for the food, James." She said firmly, trying to avoid a fight when she had only just got back, what did he know about how she was living? What did he understand about this house? As her bitter thoughts suddenly piled up and the bruise on her cheek stung a bit with her frown she decided not to avoid the fight. "If you want some money, My stash is under the pencil sharpener on my desk." She took a vicious bite of the piece of toast. "Do all the damn shopping you want."

There was an awkward silence for a moment as she munched on her toast and he sat, perched cautiously on the edge of her bed, perhaps thinking of something to say. Finding nothing he stood back up, walking over to the writing table and grabbing his coat. With stiff hasty motions he pulled it over his shoulders.

Leaning back behind her she put down the piece of toast angrily. Grabbing the shoe off the floor she reach under the bed and finally found the other one, ignoring the lunchbox in her little fit. Holding them out to him, with her mouth held in a firm line, she watched as he snatched them out of her hands and pulled them on without tying them. There was a defining moment when Rose Looked down at her hands and was about to apologize but when she looked back up he was staring at the scarf she'd made him sitting on the desk.

"James…" she started, hands clasping tight behind her back.

Without a word he sent her a glare and climbed out the window, disappearing from sight quickly. Shocked and with a strange feeling in her stomach Rose sat back down on the bed, feeling a sort of remorse, a longing she couldn't describe.

She couldn't have possibly known that it was the last time she'd see him though, climbing out her window.

Author's Note:

Hello everyone! This chapter is kind of a set up for more things to come. All the little bits scatter around in it will be mentioned later on. Thank you for the reviews so far- though pretty scarce…

I could really use some feed back on the story as we go along, I like to know that Someone's reading the story- or why bother writing it and posting it up here? So please- Tell me what you think so far and perhaps some speculations about the roles of the characters. Brainstorming is a great way to get yourself mentioned as a character in the story!

Sorry for the bribe, and have a good day or afternoon or whatever!

-N.L.P.


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